


Blood Calls to Blood

by detritius



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Non-Consensual Touching, Sibling Incest, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 19:33:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8297731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detritius/pseuds/detritius
Summary: Where once there was fear of him, now there is only pity for this wreck, the man who was once her brother.
A snapshot of Daenerys and Viserys shortly before his death.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking for awhile about posting some of my Game of Thrones/ASoIaF stuff, and today I decided, why not? I have a serious backlog of old fic on my hard drive, although most of them are like this one, drabbles and character studies rather than full-fledged stories. This was the first thing I ever wrote for Game of Thrones, sometime in 2013.

"This," he hisses, his hand splayed out on her swollen belly, "should have been mine." His breath is thick and spiked with wine, and his hands are rough and clumsy. "You were meant for me, little sister,” he says, pulling at the laces of her bodice. The knots beguile him, and he gropes at her through her leathers. “I would have dressed you in the finest silks,” he says, tearing at them, “not these rags.” He gives up on her clothes and starts pulling at her Dothraki braids, making her wince in pain. But when her hair is loose again, he smiles down at her. “You were made to be my queen,” he says, and the pride in his voice almost breaks her. “You would have ruled at my side, and the son you’d bear me would be dragon’s blood. A true king. Look at me," he says, for she had turned away. He strokes her face as she looks up at him, into his senseless black eyes. "There now," he says, with some semblance of gentleness. "There now, sweet sister. You don't know what it cost me to sell you away to these savages." He murmurs it low, his cheek pressed against the tender swell of her breast. "But I would do it again," he hisses, suddenly incensed, his hands on her like steel. "Believe that. I would sell you a thousand times over to take back my throne." He spasms as he says it, gasps for breath until he’s sobbing. "Forgive me," he chokes. "Forgive me, sweet sister. They left me no choice." She strokes his hair, white as her own, and holds back a sigh. Where once there was fear of him, now there is only pity for this wreck, the man who was once her brother.

“Hush now,” she murmurs. “Hush now, Viserys.” He quiets against her, his tears drying and his breath leveling as he slips into wine-soaked sleep. She strokes his back and his hair even after she’s sure he can no longer feel it, trying not to weep herself. Holding him, she misses her brother, the man who told her stories of dragons, who sold his inheritance to feed her, who promised he would take her home. Daenerys never met her father or her eldest brother, Rhaegar, but she saw the light die out of Viserys’s eyes, day by day replaced by madness. She saw what exile, hunger, and fear did to him, unmaking him from a prince to a beggar to a ravening animal in the shape of a man. A hot surge of rage rises in her and her fists clench in the fabric of Viserys’s tunic. She hates the Kingslayer and the Usurper and everyone of Baratheon or Lannister blood. They killed Viserys as surely as they killed the rest of her family. “We can take it back,” she whispers to him. “I promise you that we will take it back. And we will make them pay in blood.”


End file.
